New
by gobbled234
Summary: So the whole Beauxbatons stint didn't work out. I'm sure the whole 'adjusting' experience would be more painful if the boys of Hogwarts were a smidgen less handsome. Okay, but apparently they're all Quidditch obsessed fanatics. No problem, I can learn...


My life is a _fucking_ nightmare.

The most horrid thing about being the only daughter of one slightly maniacal, overprotective Harry Potter is that he's not the only psycho out to protect my virtue.

Ha!

What I wouldn't give to see the look on their faces if they found out about how 'intact' my 'virtue' actually is...

By 'their' I mean the rest of the hulking gaggle of Weasley men that intimidate, daunt, and – sometimes – Obliviate the (potentially) significant others in my life.

Take the other day, for example. Me, Dom, Roxy, Diagon Alley. More specifically, Florean Fortescue's. So we're sitting around, slurping on our frozen treats – except Dom, who'd snottily requested for a meat-less salad – and who do mine eyes spy but the wonderfully male, spectacularly fit body of Sebastian Rowan Wood.

With my brother. Ugh. He was bound to cramp my mojo.

Anyway, I, being the awesomely confident girl that I am, sprang up from my seat to go and say salutations. The presence of my dense, older brother wasn't enough to sway me from implementing my feminine wiles.

But of course, anything pertaining to me never can go to plan.

It just so happens that on that particular day I was wearing a delightfully short sundress, showcasing my lovely, shapely legs.

And I know, I know – I'm a right narcissistic brat. Alas, it's true. I get what I want, when I want. And, people I grew up around never failed in praising my large green eyes, dark red locks, and killer smile. Such is the way of the world. Or at least, my world. The children of the War Heroes are treated like royalty, handled with fragility, cared with class.

So I'm sauntering up to where my brother's sitting, right? And Sebastian's eyes are glued to me, bloke can't peel his eyes off me, I'm on a good start. When I reach their table, I greet Al as nice as I possibly can, seeing as he's glaring at Wood – who, did I mention already? Is staring appreciatively at the cut of my outfit – and I am liking the attention, fluttering my lashes.

"Who's your friend, Al?"

He's never formally introduced us, so it's a fair question. I mean, Wood's not the brightest of fellows, so even if I do sound like a bimbo, it's alright.

Plus, there's the very true possibility of me coming off as genuine – I go to Beauxbatons, did I mention that?

As hard as it may seem to believe, I was a bit of a wild child after James and Albus left for Hogwarts, so Tante Fleur had recommended the strict, firm handlings of Madame Maxime – where Victoire had refused to go, but Dom had preferred.

So Roxy – who never did manage to convince Uncle George – remained at Hogwarts while Dominique and I spent our first four years there. Never did manage to establish a fondness for that penitentiary, and with enough whining and begging and pleading to Daddy, I'm set for my Fifth Year at Hogwarts.

As is Dom.

I've already been sorted too, so I'm stoked about being in Gryffindor with the rest of the fam.

Back to why my bleeding family's overly protective tendencies ruin my life.

I'm laying on the charm, one hand on my slender hip, plucked eyebrow raised while Al makes introductions between Sebastian and myself. Of-bloody-course I've heard of the guy – there's not a girl at home that isn't interested in the Quidditch players at Hogwarts.

He's gawking at me, Wood is. Then he shakes his head, and smiles at me.

Widely.

Well. That's always a good sign.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he grins at me, both he and I ignoring the venomous glowering of my older brother.

I giggle appropriately, smile demurely, all the while remembering _É__paules en arrière, chest out. _Soon, a disgruntled Al pulled Wood up, and told me they were meeting up with friends at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Oh, I love Quidditch!" I squealed, clasping my hands together in what I was hoping would appear as true interest.

Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a huge Quidditch-obsessed fanatic like the rest of my relatives. I think Mum's always been somewhat disappointed by my lack of passion for the sport, while Daddy's understood that that's what sending me to Beauxbatons would partially entail – a mild revulsion toward sweat.

"Really?" Wood asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

Al's looking back and forth between us skeptically, his rusty cogs finally working out the ancient courting ritual of flirting that's unfolding before him.

"You know what Wood," he says with clenched teeth, "you and I need to have a little chat."

And with a warning glance in my direction, he hauls his friend off.

Leaving me miserable and alone.

I know, melodrama much? But understand, I am merely a teenage witch with a super climactic life.

The second Al figured out Wood's interested, he whisks him away from my hopeful person. Oh well, now that I spewed out that BS about adoring Quidditch, I suppose I could work on it with the coaching of Roxy.

...

So that was then.

And right now, in the present, I'm not having much of a jolly good time either. Reason being? I'm eighteen meters off the ground, trying my best to dodge the bludgers James' flinging my way.

Oh for Merlin's sake! That bloody ball just whizzed past my left ear, and I _just _got my cartilage pierced not two hours ago – at this quaint little tat parlour in Paris, it's all the rage. Note to self: get rose-cut diamond studs from Rue de la Henri.

"JAMES, YOU BLOODY IDIOT! THAT BANGING THING ALMOST SLICED OFF MY EAR!!" I shrieked, magically amping my voice.

Ladies never holler, they magically enhance their voices to unbearable decibels.

"STOP BEING SUCH A PANSY, LILY! HOW'RE YOU GONNA IMPRESS THE BOYS WITHOUT MY HELP?!" Unfortunately, James _yelling_ with an amplified vocal range tends to get the birds flocking out in masses, far, far away from the forestry around us.

Our visions are temporarily obscured as the sky turns a glossy, feathered obsidian.

Good gods, I'd be soo embarrassed if James was still at Hogwarts. Not only is he ten times worse than Al on the whole boys thing, he's dumber than a post. He blurts things out randomly and doesn't care about the consequences.

James Potter II is loud, obnoxious, uncouth, and the recently appointed Captain of the Wimbourne Wasps, arch rival of the Holyhead Harpies, something mum had a bit of a tetch getting over.

Obviously, she'd been proud – hell, e_very_one, even Auntie Hermione, had been beyond ecstatic, but seeing as mum's former captaining had been over the Harpies, it's understandable where she'd been coming from, but Merlin forbid anyone try and explain _that _to _James. _

He'd not really even noticed it, the dunderhead – in his oblivious joy over all of it.

All of this circles back to Roxy, James, and their brand new, top of the line, luxury broomsticks.

I'm on a stinky old Firebolt 5000.

Of course, James and Roxy'd scoffed at me, telling me that I was over exaggerating.

Was not! I feel like pouting now, and I would, however it's much too hard to concentrate while there are about five too many balls whizzing around my delicate, precariously balanced person.

Oh gods, I need a nice, Acromantula Silk massage.

And a rejuvenating java-berry swirl espresso.

And a mani-pedi.

And –

Hot damn, Roxanne just practically _mauled _me with that stupid bludger.

"That's _IT!_ ROXY COME BACK HERE YOU BLOODY BITCH!" I grab the Beater's bat from an innocently hovering Hugo, and swing with a vengeance toward a madly giggling Roxy.

Her curly locks jauntily bounce, taunting me, urging me to speed up and get revenge.

"GAHHH!" In my frustration, I blindly swerve away from the too-close shingles of our roof, managed to pull upward at the last minute to avoid clawing my face, but...

"LILY, YOUR LEG!!"

Yeah.

It's a right bloody mess.

Literally.

..

After getting mopped up, fawned over, and remorsefully apologized at – over, and over, and _over_ again – I lay on my downy mattress, with my long-awaited espresso in one hand, and the other making grandiose gestures while dictating my quill, I think of what Sebastian might be doing at this very moment.

Perhaps he's practicing for Quidditch?

Snogging some random bird?

I voiced the latter option to the still regretful faces of Dom and Roxy, both who sputter in laughter.

Sitting up, offended, I glared at them. "Don't mock me! I'm serious. He's cute enough, you know," I huffed, crossing my arms.

"Lily, _you're _more the type to do something like that, not Wood," Roxy said, smiling at me tenderly like I'm some cute, silly krup that did something a cute, silly krup would do.

"Yeah, and how would you know?"

Her smile faded, and she sighed.

Gods, I can be such a righteous bitch. I'd totally looked over the sensitivity in my statement, not even thinking about how Roxanne would interpret it.

"I missed you and Dom terribly, you don't even know," she said morosely.

Dom and I instantly scooted over to the center of my bed, slinging our arms around her.

"I'm sorry, Roxy. I'm an inconsiderate moron most of the time."

"It's true," Dom nodded emphatically, "she never thinks before speaking. Besides babe, we're here now, and trust me – Hogwarts won't know what's hit it."

With that thought in mind, we went to our respective mattresses.

Bless magic, Dad had transfigured my dresser and chair into extra beds for the girls.

Good ol' Daddy.

So, I'm expecting one wicked awesome year for the girls and myself.

Dad's Minister for Magic, mum's a former Holyhead Harpies' captain, James' currently captain of the Wimbourne Wasps, and the rest of the younger brood...

Is in for one amazing ride.

We're rich.

We're privileged.

We're famous.

And this is my perspective on what is surely to be the coolest years Hogwarts is going to have, now with the addition of the lovely Dominique and myself.


End file.
